Wild Flower (29 page)

“Towards the west,” I whispered, and we climbed back out into the rain. Mathias locked the truck and tucked the key into his pocket, and we started out.

The going wasn't terribly difficult, much like walking through the woods back home, a similar rise and fall to the land beneath our feet. Here though, there were no trees. Here, the foothills were full of rock formations, eerie in the darkness, turrets and ledges and indentations everywhere, giant, oddly-shaped stone fortresses. The rain was steady as we left the truck behind, and I was pulsing with awareness. Mathias kept the flashlight beacon trained on the ground ahead of us.

Cora
, I called out.
Show me where you are. Please, show me.

Though light, the rain plastered our hair to us, drenched our clothes in minutes. I closed my eyes and stretched out with my mind, my hand on Mathias's waist, as he walked just in front of me. We didn't speak for a time, until there was a sudden sizzle of lightning on the distant horizon, and then he stopped at once and ordered, “No. We're going back to the truck! I won't put you in danger out here!”

“But she's so close,” I sobbed, tears and rain streaking my cheeks. “She's here, we can't leave her here anymore!”

“Camille!” he said. There was a tremendous cracking in the air above us, and I leaped as though stabbed. It was just thunder, but another bolt of lightning followed in its wake, and Mathias was adamant. He ordered, “Back to the truck, now!”

The darkness was broken fiercely by the next brilliant flash and at the same moment a skittering of loose rock tumbled down one of the silent rock fortresses to our immediate right. I gasped at the sight and Mathias pulled me instantly to him.

“Shit!” he uttered, and his heart was pounding wildly.

I saw something then; the falling rock had directed my attention that way and I shouted, “Look there!”

I dragged him behind me, towards the opening; not quite a cave, but close, a low crevice burrowing perhaps ten feet deep into the base of the rock. I fell to my knees and peered inside. Mathias dropped behind me and put his hands on my back. He said, “Let me look first!”

My ribs burned wickedly and I moved obediently to the side, my heart being squeezed as though with a length of bristly rope. Mathias circled the beam of light in the darkness of this ancient space, once, twice, and disappointment pummeled my gut. There was nothing. It was an empty hollow, hardly big enough for two adult bodies, full of nothing more than small rocks and dirt. Rain splattered over us and thunder seemed to split the sky into chunks. Lightning pierced the darkness directly on the heels of another burst of thunder, appearing to strike the tip of the neighboring rock. I couldn't muffle a scream at the sight of this.

“Honey, come on,” he said roughly, dragging me into the space. We had to crouch, and it was musky with the scent of earth, but it was dry. I felt a twinge of horror at being in a confined space this way, and Mathias collected me close to him, moving to his knees and setting the flashlight on the ground.

I sobbed, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I thought she was here…”

“Honey,” he said again, this time gently, stroking my wet hair. I was shivering hard and he re-wrapped his powerful arms around me, even more securely. “It's all right. We'll be fine until the storm passes in here. It's all right, love.”

I held tightly to him, letting him comfort me. The storm passed within a quarter hour, moving east; we could hear the grumble of thunder receding. I had calmed by the time Mathias said, “Let's go home.”

I nodded agreement. I would put this insanity behind me. I would hide away the picture, and the telegram, the letters…I would pray that I never dreamed of them again…

“We'll go get in dry clothes, what do you say?” he asked, running one hand through his wet hair.

He kissed my forehead and I drew back, nodding for the second time. Mathias bent to collect the flashlight and it was then that I saw it, a rock that looked more like…

“There,” I said hoarsely, bending over the ground on the very edge of the cave and scraping frantically with my fingers. When this wasn't enough, I scrabbled for a small rock. Mathias pointed the flashlight directly at what I was digging and he made a low sound.

“Is that…” his voice was hushed.

“It is,” I said, crying again. “It's a skull…oh God…”

The earth fell away as we worked, exposing something I had only ever seen as a model in the science rooms at school, in movies, as a Halloween decoration. And then suddenly it was in my hands, the top smooth and polished as a river rock. The entire lower jaw was gone, only the empty eye sockets gaping out as though peering at us.

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

I heard a strange sound then, a dry skittering rattle and something shifted over my thigh, smoothly strong as it moved faster than I could have ever imagined. I hardly had time to draw a breath before Mathias made a low, strangled sound and it was only then that my eyes perceived what was happening. My mind was even slower than my eyes, finally stumbling to awareness of the fact that a rattlesnake had just slid over my leg and sank its fangs into Mathias's.

Panic swallowed me whole. Time seemed suspended in something disgustingly sticky, as each second seemed an eternity. My breath came in gasping moans as I dropped the skull. The snake was already whipping away, fast and sinuous and horrible as Mathias bent forward and said, “Oh shit, oh
shit
.”

His voice was choked and I was ripped apart by my own helplessness.

“What can I do what can I do?” I was repeating this in a high-pitched voice and someone with a more level head would have slapped me.

“Honey, you've got to go get help,” he said at once, trying to stay calm, but his voice was sick with fear beneath the surface. “That was a rattler…shit,
fuck
that hurts. Oh God, you've got to get help.”

“I can't leave you here!” I gasped. Mathias fumbled for the flashlight and shone it over the bleeding wound on his thigh. He sucked in a harsh breath at the sight.

“Camille, you have to go get help,” he said, catching my arm in his free hand. His grip was noticeably weaker than usual.

“I'll get the truck and drive it here to you,” I said frantically.

His eyelids fluttered a little and my entire body pulsed with agony at the sight. He said, “That's a good idea, I didn't think of that…” and managed to extract the key from his pocket. I took it at once.

“Thias, oh God, oh God, I'll be right back,” I sobbed, catching his face in my hands, kissing him feverishly, before crawling out into the rainy night.

This was hell.

Hell was a rainy, rocky, no man's land in which I was now forced to run, leaving my love, the love of my life, behind me.

Oh God, let him be all right. Oh God, I'll die if anything happens to him.

I'll die.

And then I had no room for thoughts, running full-bore. I fell once, hard, sliding inches over the ground and scraping my knees and palms, terrified that I had dropped the key. But it was still clutched in my hand. I came upon the truck and flew into it, gunning the engine of the good old 4x4, thankful as hell that it was all-wheel drive. I cranked the wheel and drove back the way I'd come, avoiding boulders. The truck bounced like a pinball and lost a hubcap, I was pretty sure, but I had no time for anything but getting to him.

For a horrific while, I wasn't sure if I could find my way to the right spot. I braked where I was certain he was waiting, again immersed in visions of hell, of driving across eastern Montana and never finding him, being kept apart from him, our souls never finding each other again.

I'll wait for you right there
, he'd said, pointing to the cluster in the Milky Way's expanse.

And razors dug into my heart, deeper and deeper.

I leaped out of the truck and screamed his name, my throat raw, running towards the cave. I could see it now and I fell to my knees and peered inside. I had no idea how much time had elapsed while I ran and returned here; it could have been five minutes or a half hour. I had no sense of anything. My breath emerged as a whimpering growl as I saw him lying flat on his back, eyes closed. I could hardly comprehend that the sounds coming from my throat were my own. I scurried to his side and felt for a pulse, my hands like ice. I gasped out, sick with terror, “Thias, I'm here, I'm here…oh God…be all right, I'm here…”

His heart was beating, but he was cold, still damp from the rain, and his eyelids didn't so much as flutter at the sound of my voice. Everything I'd ever heard about snake bites came flooding into my brain. Mom had given us the talk about snakes, as we'd visited northern Minnesota every summer. I knew you weren't supposed to open the wound, despite all the westerns I'd ever seen. What I had to do right now was lift him into the truck.

“I have to lift you up, Thias, I have to get you into the truck. Can you hear me? Oh God, hear me,” I pleaded, getting my arms under his upper body. He moaned then, but was otherwise inert, and frantic sobs clawed at my throat. He was so much bigger than me. Desperately I said to him, “I have to lift you up, love, I have to get you up,” but I could already tell that I wasn't strong enough, even with adrenaline pulsing through me. I would have to drag him and I would hurt him in the process.

There is no other choice.
I understood this clearly. And then, reeling with helplessness, I heard myself sob out a name; I heard myself beg for Malcolm, over and over again.

Later I would never be sure exactly what happened, though in the moment it was sterling clear, clear as glass, clear as lake water. The essence of a man appeared at the entrance to the cave, jolting every nerve in my body. I stared numbly at him.

It's you
, he said to me. He fell to his knees not three feet from where I huddled over Mathias and I could see him almost clearly now, the planes of his face visible, his eyes dark and intent, arms reaching outward towards me. My heart stuttered before taking up a vicious beating.

“Malcolm,” I whispered harshly, in recognition. “Malcolm Carter.”

It's been kept from me all this time
. His face was ravaged, his eyes aching with over a century of torture.
Lorie told me – she told me you were dead, that she knew it, that I had to stop searching. And you've been here, all this time. Oh God, Cora, let me touch you, oh God, let me touch you one more time…

I choked on a sob as his hands seemed to cup my face, though I felt no pressure at the touch. He was so close I could see the individual strands of his dark hair, could have counted every eyelash, traced my fingers over his bowed lips as I did with Mathias. His cheeks were hollow, facial bones prominent. There were freckles dusting his long, straight nose; his eyebrows were dark, arched over his deep brown eyes as they devoured my face.

Forgive me, he begged intently. Please, tell me that you forgive me. God knows I never forgave myself. You've been here all this time, oh God, all this time alone.

“Help me,” I begged him, tears streaking my face. “Please, I forgive you, and you have to help me. I have to save Mathias.”

Malcolm pressed his pale lips to my forehead, my cheeks, my mouth, as though in a frenzy of need. He begged,
Please, tell me again. I have to hear it again. All those years without you…

“Malcolm!” I shouted at him, trying to catch his shoulder, but my hand sank directly through him. I made an inadvertent sound of horror, gasping, faltering at this realization.

Cora, I never stopped loving you
, he said desperately.

My heart was mangled even further at these words. His eyes. I said, softer now, “It's all right, Malcolm.” I put my face as close to his as I could manage and said intently, “You have to help me. Mathias is hurt. Please, I'll do anything to save him. Can you help me?”

I'll do anything for you. I never should have stopped searching for you, Cora, not ever. I want you to know that.

And then from behind me there was sense of pressure, a rising up of something with a soft, ancient sigh and then her voice, speaking softly and intensely.

You did what was right. You did, Malcolm Carter, and I do forgive you. I never stopped loving you either. Never. It is me who should be begging forgiveness, not you. I'm so sorry, Crow, I'm so sorry. I cursed you. I cursed Lorie. I hated her. I vowed that her family and all of their kin would lose their men. That they would forever after lose the first men they ever loved, and I should be begging forgiveness for that. Me, not you.

A crawling chill went over my spine and I turned to see her just beyond my shoulder. Malcolm's spirit made a sound like wind in a tunnel and flew to her so swiftly that it was a blur. They entwined and soundless sobs echoed through my head. She was small and slight, long, rippling dark hair cascading over her back. Her clothes were in tatters, her arms and legs so slender they appeared fragile as twigs. Her eyes burned in her face, one green, one black.

We have to help this woman, Crow. She loves him. He's of you, I can tell. And they belong to each other, I feel it.

“Oh God, please help me. I can't lose him, I can't bear it,” I begged them.

Malcolm's face was buried in her hair, her arms locked about him. But she whispered,
We will help you
.

March 2007:
Landon, MN

“Honey, can we play the game where I try to decide if your eyes are more green or more gold?” Mathias asked softly, teasing me a little as I rested between contractions. The room was dim, lit only by a single light near the twin bed.

“I'm trying…” I drew in a sharp breath before finishing, “To have our babies here.”

He grinned at me and smoothed hair from my face; the nurses had left us alone since midnight. They said to call if my contractions got any closer together. At the moment I felt as though I may just be in labor for the next week. I had already been on bed rest since Millie Jo's third birthday in February. My husband asked, “You want me to fix your hair, my sweet darlin'? It's coming all loose.”

I nodded and he helped me ease forward so that he could re-loop the rubber band; he had a lot of practice with this sort of thing, as he often helped Millie Jo with her hair. He finished his ministrations and drew the long ponytail over my shoulder, stroking over its length. His beautiful indigo eyes were alight with excitement over the fact that we would finally be meeting our boys.

“There's two in there,” Aunt Jilly had told me back in September, before I'd even been in for any sort of ultrasound. But Aunt Jilly always knew things, and I never questioned her. She rubbed my belly and said, “Two bouncing boys, if I'm not mistaken.”

It had taken a fair amount of time for Mathias to float back down from his elation at this news.

“Twins, on the first try,” he kept saying. “I'm pretty proud of that, yes I am.”

We had come home from Montana quite differently than we'd expected, back in July. My memory of the events in the cave were still hazy, as something viewed through a smoked-glass window, and I was not entirely sure if that was because I had been in such shock, or because my mind was somehow protecting me this way. I believed, and would always believe, that Malcolm Carter had come to me in the cave and that he and Cora had helped me to lift Mathias into the truck. I left them behind then, the two of them together, driving frantically back to the road and then into the tiny town of Terry, Montana, wild-eyed, where the emergency room staff treated Mathias for shock and with antibiotics to counteract the western rattler's venom. He had been out the rest of the night, while I waited in a stupor of terror, unwilling to take my eyes from him, despite the hospital staff's kind reassurances that he would indeed be right as rain. Someone retrieved my bag from the truck, so I had clean dry clothes; another person dabbed antiseptic on my knees and at the base of my palms, where I had fallen, while a third brought me a cup of tea.

By morning's light, Mathias's eyelids were fluttering and I restrained the urge to pounce upon him, to climb right onto the narrow hospital bed and wrap around him. Instead I touched his face, so carefully, and he reached and caught my wrist in his hand, his fingers curling around the bones beneath my skin.

“Did you see her?” he whispered. “Did you, Camille?”

Tears flowed over my cheeks and clogged my throat, but I nodded, cupping my other hand against his face. His dear, precious face that I could not live without.

He said, “She was there. She spoke to me.”

“She saved you,” I whispered. “Thias, she saved you.”

His fingers caressed my forearm, gently, not up to his usual strength yet. He whispered, “
You
saved me. You saved me from so many things.”

“Do you know how much I love you?” I asked him intently. He had asked the same thing of me before we'd made love the first time.

“I do,” he whispered back. “My love, my sweet love.”

Mom and Blythe had been ready to drive to Terry and retrieve us; Mathias's sisters called about every ten minutes until we reached Beltrami County, so worried for their little brother despite his reassurances. I promised all of them that I would get us safely home. In the late afternoon, before we left Montana, while Mathias yet rested in the hospital bed, I drove the truck back along Highway 253, slowly this time, and retraced my steps one last time. When I came upon the little cave, it was lit by the auburn fire of the afternoon sunlight, the angle of which caused my throat to ache. I noticed what I had not last night in the darkness and rain, the wild flowers, the bitterroot blossoms that were growing along the ground near the opening. I saw too the evidence of someone being dragged along the earth and drew a deep breath.

I understood not even half the story, I realized this, but I understood enough. I had restored Malcolm to Cora, and she had restored Mathias to me. And there was only quiet here now. I dropped to my knees, gingerly, and crawled in just far enough to retrieve the top of her skull, all that was apparently left of a young woman with tremendous strength and power, fierce devotion. I prayed she was at peace now, that all of her pain and anger had evaporated like morning dew. I cradled the skull against my belly, smoothing over the dull curve that would have been the top of her head long ago, tracing my fingers lightly over the eye sockets, and my ring caught the glint of the rich, low-lying sun; perhaps Cora had worn this exact ring, long ago. I would never know, but there was one thing I could do for her.

“It's time you came home,” I told her.

***

We buried her in the
woods near the cabin. We decided that we didn't want to mark the place with a wooden cross, and so Mathias and I worked together to find a medium-sized native stone, round and with a smooth, flat surface appropriate for chiseling.

“We don't even know her last name,” I said, tracing my fingertips over the rock. “Or when she was born. Or even exactly when she died.”

Mathias considered for some time before he began chiseling, and the result was this:
Cora Carter, beloved of Malcolm A. Carter
,
1876
.

“Do you think she'd like that?” he asked as we stood there later, her skull properly buried and the stone in place. I had brought with a bundle of roses, which I felt she would prefer, of a lovely, rich golden-pink color. These I set carefully near the stone. I had spent plenty of time thinking of something she had said, back in the cave, about the curse.

They would forever after lose the first men they ever loved, she said.

And this was true. I thought of my grandma, my mother, Aunt Jilly, even myself. Each of us had lost the first man we had ever loved. Perhaps stretching back through time, this had been the case for the women in our family. As a light bulb flickering to life, I thought of Aunt Ellen and Dodge. Maybe she had never openly admitted her love for him for that very reason, even subconsciously. She didn't want to lose him.

But if we hadn't lost them, we would not have found our true loves, I realized. Cora's curse was really a blessing. In complete disguise, it was actually a blessing.

And it's done now. It's gone. I felt the release of this truth, in my soul.

“I think she would like it very much,” I said, touching the inscription once more. As I stood, Mathias tucked me against his side and if he'd been wearing his cowboy hat, he would have held it against his chest in this moment. “This is where she always wanted to be, I think.”

“Me too,” he said. “She has finally come home.”

***

Months later, in the labor
and delivery wing at the Rose Lake hospital, Mathias was too excited to get any rest, even when the nurses warned him it could be a good while before the boys decided to emerge. He had been planning for this day since the moment we'd discovered we were to be parents, and I would always believe that the boys had been conceived that night at Makoshika, beneath the gorgeous starry sky.

“Are you hurting, love?” he asked for the hundredth time, as sun began peeking in the tall window to the right of the bed.

“Well, I
am
in labor. And you're asking again,” I warned him, rolling my eyes. My good mood had long since dissipated, but Mathias was undeterred. I had told him if he asked again I would make him go join the rest of our families in the waiting room.

“Matty-pants, if you can't handle a little pain, you better get your ass out of here,” Tina, who had popped in around five in the morning, told him wryly.

I giggled at her words, even as worry knitted his brows and he leaned to kiss my forehead.

“You couldn't force me out of here at gunpoint,” he said. “I'm going to be right there to play catcher when my boys come out.”

Aunt Jilly stuck her head in the door then, the morning sunlight dancing over her golden hair. She asked, “Can I join you? You don't mind one more body in here, do you, Milla? I'm too impatient out there.”

“Of course not,” I told my auntie.

She fluttered to the bed and kissed me, smoothing her delicate hands gently over my belly.

“Morning, Jills,” Tina said affectionately. “I saw your little guy with Justin at the grocery store the other day. Oh my God, he's adorable.”

“I'll tell Justin you said so,” Aunt Jilly teased. “He is pretty damn adorable, isn't he?”

Tina laughed and said, “Yeah, and so's your baby.”

Riley Justin Miller had been born on the last day of September. He was now six months old, with utterly kissable chubby cheeks and huge brown eyes, and I had never seen a baby who smiled more than him. Possibly this came from being cuddled every second of every day. His big sister Rae was fiercely protective of him.

“Within the hour,” Aunt Jilly said, still touching my belly, and Mathias sat instantly straighter.

It had been last August that the local sheriff's department finally gave us definitive word on what had happened to Zack Dixon, when his body was discovered. Cause of death had been officially determined as drowning. Somehow he had stumbled into Flickertail Lake and met his end on that July night he had tried to steal Aunt Jilly's life. Though nothing could be proven directly, he was suspected in the disappearances of at least two women back in Missouri. Only one of his relatives turned up, an elderly grandmother who claimed she had not seen him in over four years. Who he really was, we would never know.

And then there was Noah, who had become an unwitting hero. He was doing all right these days, had re-enrolled in college and was finishing up his undergraduate degree. His life had been saved that night too, and he believed in second chances, as he'd told me when I went to visit him, shortly after getting home from Montana last summer. He saw Millie Jo as often as he could. She called him ‘Daddy' now, and was happy to inform people that she was lucky enough to have two daddies.

“Oh, that was a big one,” I said then, caught off guard and leaning forward.

“Should I get a nurse?” Aunt Jilly asked at once.

“Oh holy shit, my water just broke,” I said then, shifting uncomfortably.

“I'd say that's a ‘yes,'” she responded, dashing out into the hall.

Three hours later, two baby boys, just over five pounds each, were in my arms. The delivery room was currently packed with people, even though only Mom, Aunt Jilly, Tina and Mathias had been present for the actual birth, but I didn't mind. Our family was so excited that I could not deny any of them this moment to meet the newest members. Mathias and I had settled on names during my bed rest, and two brand new birth certificates read
Brantley Malcolm
and
Henry Mathias Carter
.

“These are my grandsons,” Bull rumbled proudly, snuggling Brantley to his chest. “My boy made twins on the first try, see there.”

Aunt Ellen and Grandma regarded Bull with amused eyes. Grandma said drily, “Camille had nothing to do with it, I'm sure.”

I had never seen Mathias so giddy. He lifted Millie Jo up to see Henry, who was in my arms. He said, “Look there, sweetheart, that's your little brother.”

“Mama, are they going to live with us?” Millie asked skeptically, studying the baby with eyebrows quirked. She hooked a finger in her mouth and pressed her forehead to Mathias's jaw. Her expression clearly said,
I don't know about this
.

Mathias kissed her cheek and explained gently, “They sure are, sweetheart. You'll love them, don't you worry.”

“You were this little once, too,” I told my daughter. “And Mama will need your help. These two need a lot of attention.”

“Can they play with me?” Millie asked. “They don't look fun, Mama.”

“Camille, you're hogging him,” Ruthie complained, reaching for Henry.

“Look at his little nose,” Tish said, peering down at him.

I regarded my younger sister for a moment, thinking of my wedding back in October. The Rawleys had come, Clark and the boys, hauling along Case and his little brother too. We had been so happy to see them; they had loved Shore Leave as much as we'd loved Jalesville. And Tish had indeed met Case. I sighed a little, still studying Tish, and wondered just what to do about what had happened.

It's not up to you to change anything
, I reminded myself firmly.
She's a big girl.

But...

Camille, it's not your business.

Mom bent to kiss my cheek then, and I pushed those thoughts away for now.

“Oh they're so beautiful,” Mom gushed.

“They sure are,” Mathias said, reaching for my hand. He curled his fingers through mine and held tightly. I knew he couldn't wait for us to be alone with our boys, but he too understood how much our family wanted to see them.

I love you
, I told him without words.

I love you so damn much, honey
, he said back, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. I let Ruthie take Henry from my arms, and she was immediately swamped, everyone crowding near to admire. Mathias leaned close in this moment of relative privacy, and kissed my lips.